


Phage (Alternate)

by ApostropheN



Series: Cavit Ro Voyager Alternate Retelling [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e05 Phage, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostropheN/pseuds/ApostropheN
Summary: Continuing from the alternate retelling of Parallax, Voyager is in the Delta Quadrant, and now both Voyager and the Maquis crew are together on Voyager, alongside the six Ocampa who came with them. Voyager, commanded by Aaron Cavit, and Ro Laren, his first officer, are still trying to find new sources of power to restore the ship's reserves. While scouting for dilithium, one of the crew's lungs are removed by a race that suffers from a deadly phage that is slowly destroying their population prompting them to harvest replacement organs and tissues from other species.Note: the "Major Character Death" warning applies to the original Starfleet crew from Canon Voyager (Janeway, Paris, Kim) having not survived the trip to the Alpha Quadrant, whereas instead Cavit, Stadi, Fitzgerald and Honigsberg survived.
Series: Cavit Ro Voyager Alternate Retelling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137725





	1. Teaser

_Captain's log, stardate 48532.6: Lieutenant Taitt continues to scan for ways to supplement our power reserves, but the sector continues to be resource poor. We’ve also picked up some Kazon activity, and decided not to gamble on them belonging to our potentially allied Kazon-Ogla sect. We’ve also adjusted our course to avoid a civilization, the Krowtonan Guard, which according to the Talaxian database we traded from Kes’s companion, are oppressive and violent and technologically capable of backing up their borders._

_On the positive side, the same database listed a rogue planetoid marked as an extremely rich source of raw dilithium. If we find it, it would go a long way toward easing our power shortage, and potentially allow us to repower the crew decks we’ve shut down in the name of power conservation._

*

“A little light reading for breakfast?” Ro said.

Cavit looked up. He hadn’t even noticed Ro was beside him. She’d obviously just approached him in the corridor and he would have walked right by her without so much as a smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was miles away.” He raised the PADD he was carrying. “Lieutenant Taitt is thinking she can use the impulse reactor from the Li Nalas to refine the dilithium, but Lieutenant Durst wants to install it on the Aeroshuttle. Someone gets to be told no.”

“Durst,” Ro guessed.

Cavit nodded. “We need the dilithium more than we need the Aeroshuttle.”

“When does he get the bad news?” Ro said.

“As soon as the first officer is ready to deliver it,” Cavit said, smiling just a bit too much.

Ro shook her head. “I walked right into that.”

“You did.” He nodded his head toward’s the Captain’s Mess. “You want to join me for breakfast before you go break the poor man’s heart?”

“I already ate,” Ro said. “My ration was _called_ an omelette.”

“Not recommended?”

“It was very… _solid_ ,” Ro said. “But I’m sure very nutritionally sound.”

“I think I’ve got oatmeal ahead of me,” Cavit said. “Vacuum sealed.”

“Enjoy it.”

“I’ll try,” Cavit said. He passed the PADD with the conflicting requisition requests to Ro, who took it with a little nod and was on her way. He went into the private mess and looked around. The room was built for privacy and a modicum of comfort, with a small replicator—currently offline to maintain their reserves—alongside a table, two chairs, and a cupboard where, he assumed, he could store foodstuffs.

He checked inside. It was stocked with oils, spices, and a bottle of what appeared to be champagne. Cavit traced his finger over the bottle. It wasn’t the first thing of Captain Janeway’s he’d found—he’d moved her belongings into storage when he’d moved into the captain’s quarters—but this bottle felt sad in a different way than her photos and hairbrushes and clothing.

This had been saved for a celebration, he assumed.

He closed the cupboard. He needed to add the spices and oils to the ship’s stores. He’d decide about the champagne later.

The ration bar and a flask of water was already on the table, which had been set for him by a crewman.

He sat down, unwrapped the oatmeal ration, and took a bite, glancing around the room and noticing the visor that he could lower to gain access to the view from the adjacent Mess Hall. Except, of course, that would put him on display of the Mess Hall, too.

Cavit shifted in the seat, taking another bite. The bar was… chewy, and not particularly flavourful, but Ro was right. It would do.

He took a mouthful of water from the flask, and swallowed. The room was clean, simple, and he couldn’t hear anything from beyond its walls.

He _hated_ it.

With a grunt, he got up form the table, grabbed his ration bar and the water and left the little room, returned to the corridor, and made a sharp left into the Mess Hall.

*

The first thing that struck him was the scent—something warm and mildly spicy that had his mouth watering a lot more than the oatmeal had done. The second was the general tone of the voices in the Mess Hall, which were all borderline jovial. He spotted a group of the former Maquis—now in their provisional rank Starfleet uniforms—laughing over bowls of something warm while they ate.

There were also rations on the table in front of them, unwrapped and untouched.

“Captain,” Eru said, and Cavit turned to see the small, blond-haired Ocampa holding a bowl. The same scent of warmth and spice came off the bowl, and he looked at her. “Are you here for breakfast?”

“I… Yes,” he said.

“It’s not much, but the first vegetables were ready, so we have a _potato_ and _carrot_ soup,” Eru said, carefully verbalizing the names of the vegetables, and pointing to the far end of the Mess Hall. Cavit hadn’t noticed Cir and Gara, two more of the Ocampa, had taken the furthest of the tables and set up two large containers which steamed. A few of the crew were lined up near them, and the two were filling bowls up for them.

“You did this on your own?” Cavit said.

Eru’s face fell. “Should we have asked permission?”

“No, no,” Cavit shook his head. “I’m sorry, not at all. The whole point of the garden is to take the pressure off the replicators. I just wondered who organized it.”

“Oh,” Eru’s smile returned. “That was what we thought. And some of the crew expressed some… _regret_ about the rations.”

“They’re awful,” Cavit said.

“You never ate what the Caretaker provided,” Eru said, with a winsome little smile.

Cavit laughed, then noticed the reverse of the panel screen from the Captain’s Private Mess, right beside the bank of powered-down replicators.

“If you’re going to help out like this, you know what you need?” Cavit said.

Eru shook her head.

“You need a kitchen.”

Eru smiled. “It would be easier than using our quarters.”

“I know just the place,” Cavit said.

“Bridge to Cavit,” Ro’s voice came over the comm.

“Go ahead,” Cavit said.

“We’ve got the rogue planetoid on long-range sensors.”

Cavit smiled. “I’m on my way.”

He turned to go, and then stopped. “If you go right next door,” he said to Eru. “There’s a small room with a cupboard. Take the spices and oils, but leave the bottle for now. I’ll see about getting it turned into a kitchen for you, but for now, it’s got a window you can lower, which would make a better serving station.” He eyed the ration bar in his hand, and glanced longingly at the soup. “I don’t suppose you could save me a flask of that soup for lunch?”

“Of course we could, Captain,” Eru said.

Cavit left, biting down on the oatmeal bar and finding it didn’t taste quite so bad now that he had lunch to look forward to.

*

“Good news?” Cavit said, stepping onto the bridge.

“Definitely.” Ensign Sahreen Lan, in her gold operations uniform and manning Ops, sounded more than pleased. “Definite dilithium signatures, between ten and twenty kilometres inside the planetoid.”

“There’s a network of caves down there, too,” Honigsberg added from the engineering station. “With an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, even.”

“It’s Class M?” Ro said. She rose from her chair and crossed the bridge leaned over his station. Cavit joined her there, and they both eyed the readings.

“We won’t even need environmental suits,” Cavit said.

“We?” Ro said, dropping her voice a little.

Cavit turned to her, then realized. “Ah,” he said, matching her tone. “This is the part where you tell me this is your job, not mine.”

“Don’t mind me,” Honigsberg said. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Who are you thinking for the away team?” Cavit said, raising his voice back to a conversational level.

“Lan, Durst and I can do a preliminary survey,” Ro said, “while Taitt and engineering start work on the refinery.”

“Durst?” Cavit said, raising an eyebrow.

“It seems cruel to make him help tear apart the impulse reactor,” Ro said.

“Fair enough,” Cavit said.

“It’ll take us few days to get the refinery up and running,” Honigsberg said. “But from these readings, there could as much as a thousand metric tonnes down there, so mining isn’t going to be quick, either.”

“Proceed,” Cavit said.

He watched Ro and Lan head for the turbolift, Ro calling to Durst over the comm to meet them in the transporter room. Once they were gone, he turned back to Honigsberg.

“That was pretty classy of Commander Ro,” he said. “Pete really had his heart set on that reactor for the Aeroshuttle.”

“He’ll cope,” Cavit said. “But while I’ve got you? It’s not a priority, but I’ve got another project for you in the Mess Hall.”

Honigsberg rubbed his goatee. “The Mess Hall?”

“Something to help replace the rations,” Cavit said.

“Captain,” Honigsberg said. “That’s _definitely_ a priority.”

*

Lan activated her palm beacon and pulled out her tricorder the moment she and the others materialized in the caverns deep within the rogue planetoid. She took a breath—cool, but entirely breathable—and turned her attention to the matter at hand. The readings were even stronger now they were nearby.

“I’m seeing several major deposits nearby,” Lan said.

Ro nodded. “If we split up, we should be able to mark the locations. Keep an open channel, and let’s not stray too far from here.”

“Yes, sir,” Durst said.

“Aye, Commander,” Lan said. She may or may not have delighted in the rank, and Ro may or may not have aimed a mildly amused look in her direction as a result. Lan couldn’t help it. The idea of Ro Laren as their executive officer was still amusing, and she was going to enjoy it as long as she could.

She tried not to think as hard about her own uniform. Gold, not red. Ensign, not lieutenant.

Sahreen Lan, not Dolay Lan.

They split up, and Lan turned her attention back to her readings. The tunnel she chose showed a large deposit just ahead. She aimed her beacon and frowned. More grey walls. The tricorder continued to report dilithium ore, but all she saw was more of the plain, grey stone. No veins of crystal, no lattices of any kind.

She set the tricorder into a geo-strato analysis routine.

Nothing. And yet, the scans continued to read dilithium signatures. 

She frowned.

“Lan to Ro,” she said. “There’s something off here. My tricorder insists there’s dilithium here, but a geo-stato analysis—”

“Turns up nothing?” Ro completed her thoughts over the channel. “How about you, Durst?”

“Same. Although.” Durst’s voice had a note of confusion to it. “I’m picking up traces of organic energy.”

“How about you, Lan?” Ro said.

Lan was already checking her readings. “No. I’m not seeing any sign of organics.” She shook her head. She liked this less and less. A memory was drifting to the surface, and it wasn’t one of hers. Dolay Lan’s experiences at the Setlik III massacre, seeing the bodies torn apart by mines laid by the Cardassians.

“It’s bio-electrical,” Durst said. “It could be a life-sign. But it's two metres inside the rock face.”

Lan blinked away the images of scorched flesh, swallowing. “Commander, there is no dilithium here, but someone wants us to think there is.”

“Agreed,” Ro said. “Lan, Durst, rendezvous back at the beam-in site. We’re leaving.”

“On my way,” Lan said, happy to be moving.

Durst didn’t answer.

“Durst?” Ro said. “Durst, acknowledge.”

Nothing. 

“Lan, you’re closer,” Ro said.

“I’m on my way.”

She was already running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided the antagonists here would be fine to make a more overt move against one of the away team even without Neelix refusing to obey orders. Poor Durst. No matter when he meets the Vidians, it goes poorly for him, eh? More, I snuck in a mention of the Krowtonan Guard in Neelix's database as a nod to Equinox—I figured Neelix steered Voyager away from them, but never actually mentioned them by name, which was why Janeway didn't know about them in Equinox.
> 
> I also skipped over "Time & Again" since it's a "do and undo" episode, and I don't really like those, but you'll see a few references that link back to the (non) episode through the Ocampa coming up.
> 
> "Phage" had a lot of Kes-Neelix, so I'm going to start nudging characters into closer relationships this episode, too. And since the victim is human, things won't be as dire.


	2. Act I

Fitzgerald brought the results of the brain scans up on the display, and turned. His office was crowded, with all six of the Ocampa standing in the space, or, in Cir’s case, just outside the entrance. They wore varying expressions of interest or concern, and Fitzgerald was struck again by the odd mix of youth-and-maturity the Ocampa carried with them.

“Did you find anything, doctor?” Kes said.

Fitzgerald had also noticed Kes took the lead whenever it came to the health or mental abilities of the Ocampa, whereas Daggin tended to organize the group in other arenas, like the airponics bay they’d gotten operational in record time.

“When you all came aboard, I started taking scans of you all, to help establish a baseline, remember?” Fitzgerald said.

“Yes,” Kes said.

“Well, if you look here,” he tapped the display, and on all six scans, a section was highlighted. “Psilosynine levels are elevated beyond what I’ve seen previously in all of you.”

“Psilosynine,” Abol said, pronouncing the word carefully and leaning forward to peer at the displays.

“It’s a neurotransmitter,” Fitzgerald explained. Then, seeing most of the Ocampa shake their heads—except for Kes—he continued. “A neurotransmitter is a biochemical compound in the brain that helps regulate something. In this case, psilosynine is involved in telepathy.”

“So what we saw, what we felt?” Kes said. “It _was_ telepathic.”

“Yes,” Fitzgerald said.

The group of Ocampa had come to Captain Cavit a week earlier, in the middle of the night, convinced something terrible had happened on a nearby planet. Scans of the planet had revealed a pre-warp civilization, but nothing of concern.

Kes had come to him after, and asked him to scan her to make sure she was okay, clearly still upset. Once they heard what she’d done, the others arrived as well, and Fitzgerald had scanned them each in turn.

Now, a week later, with a second set of scans to draw a comparison from both before and after their shared dream, it was clear whatever had happened to them in the middle of the night had definitely had a telepathic component.

Not that he had any idea beyond that what might have triggered the event. It could have been as simple as one of them having a nightmare and broadcasting it to the others.

Daggin considered the scans for a moment, then said, “but our…psilosynine…levels are back to normal now?”

“More or less. Slightly elevated, but for all I know, that could be within a normal variance.” Fitzgerald took a second to glance at the results. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I think it might be a good idea to keep more of an eye on you all. Maybe rotate through each of you in turn, take scans, just to establish a clearer picture of the Ocampan brain.”

To his surprise, unlike most of the crew he’d worked with in his time as a doctor, they all appeared excited at the prospect, even Cir.

“That would be wonderful,” Kes said.

“I wish I could bottle that attitude for the rest of the crew,” Fitzgerald said.

“What about the quantum singularity?” Abol said.

Fitzgerald turned, not following. “I’m sorry?”

“When Kes was inside that type four quantum singularity? Voyager approached it, and we attempted a joint telepathic effort to reach her, with Lieutenant Stadi’s help.” He bit his lip. “I’ve been reading up on the phenomenon, and the temporal phase variance seemed to affect our telepathic communication as well, so…” He raised a hand. “Is it possible it left an effect on us?”

Fitzgerald cleared his throat. “Given I know next to nothing about quantum singularities, I don’t have the slightest idea. You might ask Lieutenant Taitt?”

Abol nodded. “I will. She’s been giving me a lot of reading material on stellar phenomenon, and it’s all been so incredible.” His voice softened with awe.

“Doctor, do you have anything I could read on telepathy?” Kes asked.

“Absolutely,” Fitzgerald said. “It’s mostly going to cover Betazoid, Napean, and Vulcan neurology, but there are similarities between them and most telepathic species. I’ll track down something for you. Now, let’s set up a schedule for your visits, and then—“

“Bridge to sick-bay.” Cavit’s voice was urgent. “Medical emergency. Away team is transporting directly to you.”

“Acknowledged,” Cavit said, moving quickly past the Ocampa and out of his office. Cir practically dove out of his way.

A moment later, Ro, Lan, and Durst materialized. Durst lay on the floor, the man convulsing and twisting, visibly terrified and panicking.

“Let’s get him on the biobed,” Fitzgerald ordered.

T’Prena appeared from the lab, helping them lift him into the surgical bay. He continued to fight them, but was losing strength. His eyes rolled back, and the choked, grunting noises he made slowed down.

“Hold him down,” Fitzgerald said, grabbing one of Durst’s shoulders while the scanner closed around Durst’s chest. A moment later the restraining field kicked in and the surgical bio-bed started scanning. The alarm trilled immediately. The results seemed impossible, but there was no time to do more than react.

“T’Prena,” Fitzgerald said. “Blood-gas infuser.”

“Yes, doctor.” She moved off.

Fitzgerald reached for a hypospray, selected the dose, and pressed it to Durst’s neck. The man’s panicked twisting against the restraining field stopped, and his reddened eyes drifted closed.

“What happened?” he asked Ro.

“We don’t know.” Ro said. “He went silent, and when we found him, he was already like this.”

T’Prena returned with the device, and Fitzgerald concentrated, willing his left hand to place it against the man’s neck and hold it there, while adjusting the settings and activating it with his good hand. He let go, and looked up. 

Over the next few seconds, the readings slipped down from reds into oranges, and then, finally, yellows.

“Doctor?” Ro said.

“I've induced a coma. And the blood-gas infuser will handle keeping his blood oxygenated and deal with the carbon dioxide.” Fitzgerald re-read the results another time, then nodded to himself. Durst was out of immediate danger. He turned back to Ro. “His lungs have been removed.”

*

In the briefing room, Lan and Ro finished walking Fitzgerald and Cavit through the away mission. Ro had gone first, but now it was Lan’s turn. She explained the short time they were apart, her slow realization the readings were somehow false, and then Ro’s order to find Durst.

“By the time I got to him,” Lan said, “he was barely conscious.” She swallowed. Remembering Durst on the ground, convulsing, left her queasy and disturbed. She hadn’t felt this off balance in a long time, and it was taking some effort to stay focused.

Cavit turned to Fitzgerald. “His lungs were removed in, what, a minute? Two?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say they were _beamed_ out,” Fitzgerald said. “Very specifically.”

Cavit leaned back in his chair. “That’s…” He blew out a breath. “Okay. And the life sign?”

Lan held up Durst’s tricorder. “Durst got readings before…” She paused, not sure how to phrase it. “Well, before.” She blinked, chasing away images of burned victims. “The log notes a single humanoid. Class three, but he didn’t get more specific readings, and they were conflated with the rock face of the tunnels.”

“But no sign of anyone?” Cavit said.

“Not before we beamed back, and nothing on sensors,” Ro said. “But we weren’t looking. One we saw Durst, it was clear he was in trouble.”

“Okay.” Cavit nodded, clearly not satisfied with the state of things, but maintaining his composure. Lan envied him. She wanted to growl. Or maybe cry.

She shifted in her seat. Ro glanced at her, and Lan forced herself to be still again.

“How is Durst?” Cavit said.

Fitzgerald tilted his head. “He’s stabilized. Extracorporeal membrane oxygenation will keep him alive indefinitely. But without lungs he can’t speak, and he’s likely to panic if I wake him. I’d rather keep him unconscious for the time being. Until we replace his lungs.”

“You’re going to fit him with a pair of artificial lungs?” Cavit said.

“I’m not.” Fitzgerald shook his head, and held up his left hand. “The EMH can, though.”

Watching Fitzgerald reference his injury, Lan vividly remembered the sensation of being struck by a Cardassian disruptor. She flinched.

Ro frowned at her.

Lan swallowed.

“I sense a but,” Cavit said. Lan was grateful he didn’t seem to have noticed her discomfort.

 _What wrong with me_?

“Ideally we’d put his own lungs back,” Fitzgerald said. “Or, failing that, a transplant from a matching donor. Artificial organs are fine when we’ve got specialists and technicians handy for the maintenance and upkeep. Even the best artificial lungs we can create aren’t the same as organic, human tissue.”

It happened again. Lan felt herself remembering something: her first host, Pasha Lan, knew a man with an artificial heart. He’d been born with a defect in his valves that couldn’t be repaired, so they’d replaced it. He’d lived a normal life for the most part, but he’d had to get check-ups on a regular basis. He was a wonderful painter.

“Ensign?” Cavit said. He frowned.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Detailed scans of the caverns in the planetoid,” Cavit said, clearly repeating himself.

“Aye, sir,” she said.

“I’m going down there,” Cavit said to Ro. “And I’m going to take Rollins and a full security team with me. We’ll search every inch of those caverns if we have to. You’re in charge until we get back.”

To Lan’s surprise, Ro didn’t argue. “Yes, Captain.”

“I’ll run tissue typing for Durst,” Fitzgerald said. “If we can’t get his lungs back, there’s a good chance someone on board might be able to offer a donation, if they’re willing.”

Cavit nodded, and everyone rose.

Lan got to her feet, still feeling _off_ on some level she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Lan, got a moment?” Ro said.

Lan nodded, waiting while the others left the room.

“Are you all right, Sahreen? You were drifting off there.”

Lan took a breath. If it had been anyone else asking, she might have deflected. But Ro had welcomed her into the Maquis when she’d sought them out, and she’d been the one to recommend Lan as Voyager’s new operations officer. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything less than the truth.

“I don’t know,” Lan said. “I keep remembering similar moments.”

Ro frowned. “Similar moments. To Durst losing his lungs?”

“No,” Lan said. “I mean, everything. When we were on the planetoid, it reminded me of finding victims on Setlik III. At first I thought it was just being in a Starfleet uniform. That maybe it was bringing Dolay’s memories back to the forefront? But just now, when I saw the bands on Doctor Fitzgerald’s hand, I started thinking about that time I got hit by the Cardassian disruptor, on that mission we did with Kalita and Santos. And…” She shook her head. “Other memories. Pasha, Dolay…”

“Have the doctor take a look at you.”

“I can do the scans of the planetoid first,” Lan said. “I promise. It’s distracting, but I’m getting a handle on it.”

Ro took a second, but she nodded. “Okay. But see the doctor sooner rather than later.”

“Thank you, _Commander_.” Lan couldn’t resist the tease.

“Every time you say that I think you’re talking to someone else, _Ensign_ ,” Ro said.

“That’s why I keep saying it.”

*

Cavit eyed the caverns, then Lan’s map on his tricorder.

“Groups of three,” he said. Nodding and pointing off the other two paths. Two security teams broke off in either direction. Rollins and Foster stayed with him. They both carried phaser rifles, heads up and alert.

“According to Lan, they found Durst over this way,” Cavit said.

Crewman Foster led the way, keeping her rifle at the ready. Cavit scanned for life signs again, but found nothing.

“This is the spot,” Cavit said, once they’d arrived. Nothing looked amiss, and he couldn’t see how Ro and Lan would have not seen more if the assailant was still anywhere in the hallway. Fitzgerald’s notion that Durst’s lungs were somehow beamed out made the most sense. But by who, and from where?

“There’s a clear view in both directions,” Rollins said, echoing Cavit’s thoughts.

“His tricorder recorded life signs behind the wall,” Cavit said, raising the tricordr again. “But I just get solid rock.” He shook his head, then frowned at the reading. “And heat.”

“Sir?” Crewman Foster said.

“The rock.” Cavit held his tricorder closer to the cavern wall. “It’s warm. But only here.”

“Geothermal?” Rollins said.

Cavit shook his head. “Nothing the sensors saw.” He frowned. “There’s no reason for this. It’s almost two degrees warmer.” He took a step back, then nodded at Crewman Foster. “Foster? Just a quick tap, maybe.”

Foster adjusted the setting on her rifle and fired a short burst at the section of the wall.

It _rippled_.

“That’s not rock,” Rollins said.

Cavit blew out a breath. “It’s a projection. And a forcefield.” He lowered his tricorder and drew his own phaser, a type-three. “On my mark.”

They all aimed.

“Fire.”

The three beams struck the surface of the “wall” and after a moment, it shimmered out of existence, revealing an opening that wasn’t a natural formation at all. The hallway beyond had clearly been shaped.

“That forcefield was strong enough to fool Voyager’s sensors.” Cavit raised his tricorder. “There’s a room further down. Let’s go.”

The three started down the hall together.

*

Honigsberg stepped into Sick Bay and nodded briefly at Nurse T’Prena before approaching the surgical bay. Durst lay there, near motionless, and it unnerved him. Honigsberg had to suppress a shudder as he realized what was: Durst wasn’t breathing.

Of course. The man had no lungs.

“Alex.”

He turned. Doctor Fitzgerald stood in the entrance to his office, PADD in hand.

“Sorry,” Honigsberg said. “I know you wanted to see me, I just…” He shook his head. “It felt wrong not to stop by here first, I guess.” He glanced back at Durst’s still form. “He’s okay?”

“Yes,” Fitzgerald said. “Can we talk in here?”

“Sure,” Honigsberg followed the doctor back into the office.

Fitzgerald sat behind his desk, so Honigsberg took the smaller seat opposite. He rubbed his goatee.

“Don’t be nervous,” Fitzgerald said.

“What makes you think I’m nervous?” Honigsberg said.

Fitzgerald rubbed his chin in an exaggerated motion, stroking a goatee he didn’t have, then cracked a small smile. “You have a tell.”

“This is why I don’t play poker,” Honigsberg said.

“If it helps, you do it differently when you’re being cocky than when you’re uncomfortable.”

“It really doesn’t,” Honigsberg said.

“I ran a tissue type for Durst,” Fitzgerald said, raising the PADD. “In case we can’t recover his lungs.”

Honigsberg fought the urge to rub his chin again. _Recover his lungs_ was a phrase that never should have ever had a reason to be uttered. “Okay.”

“If we can’t—and that’s only an _if_ , Alex—then the next most ideal option would be a transplant.”

The penny dropped. “You didn’t invite me here as his supervisor, did you?”

“You’re the best match on board,” Fitzgerald said.

Honigsberg didn’t even try to resist a goatee rub. “That’s…” He took a second to hunt for a word, and came up empty. “Best match, huh?”

“Yes,” Fitzgerald said. He was using his calm, soothing doctor voice.

It was annoying as hell. Or maybe frightening. Or both? Definitely both.

“What…” Honigsberg raised his hand, realized what he was doing, and lowered it again. “What’s involved? Theoretically.”

“Theoretically,” Fitzgerald said, in that same, calm voice, “the EMH would remove one of your lungs, and surgically attach it inside Durst. I can spell out the details if you’d like, but I’m not asking you for a yes or no right this moment.”

“That’s good,” Honigsberg said.

“I just want to talk over what it would potentially mean.”

“Having only one lung,” Honigsberg said.

“Yes,” Fitzgerald said. “Generally speaking, the body adapts. A single lung even expands somewhat into the space left behind. But there is reduced oxygenation, and especially at first there might be some mild fatigue, potentially shortness of breath during exertion—”

“I bet.” Honigsberg stood up. “Sorry. Go on.”

Fitzgerald didn’t stand. “Like I said, I’m not asking for a yes or no. I just wanted to let you know you were the best candidate, and answer questions.”

“My biggest question is how did this man go from being my co-worker to my roommate to potential owner of half my lungs?” Honigsberg said. Then he paused, lowered his shoulders, and shook his head. “Sorry. You threw me a bit, doctor.”

“Of course I did,” Fitzgerald said.

“You said best match,” Honigsberg said. “I’m not saying no, and I’m not trying to pass the buck, but does that mean there are other options?”

Fitzgerald nodded, but it was a slow, grudging nod. “There are two other crew I’d consider for a transplant, but there’d be higher risks involved. I can break it down for you, if you’d like.” He held up the PADD. “It mostly comes down to blood types and projected human leukocyte antigen sensitization.”

“And I’m sure it’d make about as much sense to me as it would if I explained the impulse manifold to you,” Honigsberg said.

“Probably,” Fitzgerald said.

Honigsberg sat back down again, feeling foolish standing over the doctor. “Taitt says Durst has a crush on me.” He blurted the words out before he could reconsider.

“Durst is thirty four,” Fitzgerald said. “I think he’s a little past crushes.”

“You know what I mean,” Honigsberg said.

Fitzgerald nodded. “Well. You’re a good looking guy. You’re single. I think,” Fitzgerald paused. “You and… uh… was it Lieutenant Reese? Were off-again, on-again for a while there.”

“Currently off,” Honigsberg said. “And also he’s in the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Right.” Fitzgerald tapped his thumb against the PADD. “So, when you say _roommates_ …”

“I mean roommate.” Honigsberg shook his head. “Sorry. I’m being ridiculous, aren't I?” A man’s health was at stake, if not his life, and he was dithering about how the man might read too much into finding out Alex gave him a lung?

“No,” Fitzgerald said. “You’re not. Like I said, I don’t want you to answer now. In fact, I think you shouldn’t. Go back to work. I can keep Durst oxygenated and alive—and asleep—for quite a while before we need to start worrying. The away team could even come back with his lungs, which would render this moot.”

“ _Back with his lungs_.” Honigsberg winced. “Yeah, no matter how often you say that, it’s still so wrong.”

Fitzgerald didn’t argue with that.

“I’ll think about it,” Honigsberg said, and rose again. This time, Fitzgerald stood, too.

“That’s all I ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reese is a passing reference to the super-hunky soldier from DS9's 'The Siege of AR-558.' That man's arms alone. *fans self*
> 
> (I put it to Neelix being a Talaxian with odd lungs, but we can handle oxygenating a human being with technology we have right now for quite a while. The biggest risks are infection. So the whole "we have to hurry" thing in the original episode left me head-tilting.)


	3. Act II

The tunnel ended in a chamber door. Cavit stepped to one side with his tricorder, and nodded to Rollins and Foster, pointing at the door. They took up positions to either side, and Cavit activated the door release. It opened, and Rollins and Foster stepped through, sweeping with their phaser rifles. Cavit followed, scanning, coming up short when the details of the room sank in.

“Sir?” Rollins said, uneasily.

Cavit understood. What appeared to be a surgical table dominated the centre of the room, but it was the tanks around the edge of the space that he, Rollins, and Foster stood in that gave him pause. Inside the clear containers of the tanks, in bubbling fluid, floated organic matter that he couldn’t imagine were anything other than organs.

He raised his tricorder.

“Dilithium,” he said. He tilted his head. “This is what we were scanning. The power source of this… place.”

“That looks like a heart,” Foster said, tilting her chin at one of the cases. Sure enough, the organ inside resembled nothing so much as a heart, though at a glance it clearly wasn’t human. 

“An eye…” Rollins looked at more tanks, skirting the edge of the room. “I don’t see any lungs, Captain.”

Cavit tuned his tricorder to check for human DNA and came up empty. “You’re right. They’re not here. But a lot of other organs are.” He shook his head, then turned back to his tricorder, widening the scan. “Dissipating heat. Someone was just here.”

“Sir,” Foster said. She pointed at a plate similar to the one that opened the door to the room.

Cavit nodded, and she pressed it. A section of the wall opened, revealing another corridor.

Cavit’s tricorder lit up. “Lifesign. That way. Come on.”

Collins and Foster were through and on their way, Cavit following behind. At the first turn in the corridor, he caught a glimpse of a figure near the next turn.

“He’s armed.” Rollins raised his rifle, and took a shot.

The figure all but threw itself around the far corner of the corridor, the sound of something clattering to the floor echoing behind it.

Cavit realized the alien had dropped his weapon. He gave chase, Rollins and Foster following, but at the corner, they hit another rock face. 

“Same as before,” Cavit said, drawing his phaser. "He has to have gone this way.

They all fired, but while the wall shimmered and rippled, it remained in place, not coming apart. Cavit tried his tricorder again. “Rotating phase modulation.” He scowled, angry. Apparently, whoever the alien was, they'd upped their game. “We’re not getting through this with phasers.” He fought the urge to swear. They’d been so damn _close_.

“Sir?” Foster said.

Cavit turned. Foster had the alien’s weapon. Silver, with twin-prongs and a wide handle, it had a strangely designed emitter.

“Voyager to Captain Cavit.” Ro’s voice broke his examination.

“Go ahead.”

“There’s an alien vessel leaving the planetoid.”

“Tractor it,” Cavit said.

He waited.

“They kept the planetoid between us and went to warp. Sorry, Captain.”

“Beam the away teams back,” Cavit said. “And lay in a pursuit course. Full speed, Ro.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Cavit turned to Foster. “As soon as we’re on board, get that to Honigsberg.”

“Aye sir,” Foster said, and then the transporter beam had them.

*

“Activate the Emergency Medical Hologram,” Fitzgerald said, crossing over to the surgical bay.

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” the hologram said, shimmering into being. Then, seeing Durst in the surgical bay, the hologram paused. “Ah.”

“You accessed his file?” Fitzgerald said.

“I did. Do we know were his lungs might be now?”

“No,” Fitzgerald. “We’re in pursuit of a vessel that might have them, or know where they are, but I’d like to go over our options in case they’re not recovered.”

“Your notes state the options clearly,” the hologram said. “I’m not sure I agree with dismissing artificial lungs out of hand, however.”

“We’re nowhere near a fully equipped medical facility,” Fitzgerald said.

“I am fully capable of any routine maintenance that might be required,” the hologram said. It almost sounded annoyed with Fitzgerald for discounting him.

“And if you’re not available?” Fitzgerald said.

“If you’ve already made up your mind, I’m not sure why you activated my program to discuss options.”

Fitzgerald took a moment to breathe. “I activated you to discuss the option of a transplant, and to let you know I’d be observing.”

“Well you certainly wouldn’t be operating,” the hologram said.

“Did they even _try_ to make you remotely decent, or was compassion just not part of the medical database?” Fitzgerald snapped. The words—and the anger—were out before he could help it.

“I…” The hologram’s eyes widened, and unless Fitzgerald was completely mistaken, it seemed almost _contrite_. It was there and gone again in a moment, but it had been there, he was sure of it. ”Doctor, I was designed for emergency situations. I believe my… _directness_ was part of those parameters.” The hologram paused. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Fitzgerald shook his head. “I shouldn’t have yelled.” His heart was still thrumming hard.

“That’s true,” the hologram said.

Fitzgerald stared at him, not even trying to school his expression.

“I’m agreeing with you,” the hologram said, raising a hand. “I thought you’d like that.”

“Look,” Fitzgerald said. “If you read my notes, you saw the three possible donors. I’ve spoken with them all, but I wanted to discuss some of the potential issues.”

“The best donor is Honigsberg. That should be the choice.”

“Yes, well,” Fitzgerald said dryly, “that would be ideal, yes, but if he chooses not to, I’d like to prepare for the potential immune response from the other two potential donors.”

“Ah. I see.” The hologram nodded. “Immunosuppressant treatments may be required regardless, but I don’t foresee anything out of the ordinary. Mister Durst is otherwise healthy, has no history of respiratory or circulatory issues.”

Fitzgerald caught himself nodding as though he truly were discussing the case with a colleague, and had to check himself. “I can handle those. It’s surgical complications I’m worried about.”

The hologram opened his mouth to retort, clearly back to being affronted, but to Fitzgerald’s surprise, it paused, closed its mouth, and then started again. “Whatever I lack in _compassion_ I assure you is well compensated in _surgical skill_.”

Huh. That had almost been polite. Almost.

Nurse T’Prena stepped into the surgical bay. “Doctor?”

“Yes?” Fitzgerald and the hologram said in unison.

Fitzgerald raised an eyebrow at the hologram.

“Ah,” the hologram said again.

“We need to get you a name,” Fitzgerald said. To T’Prena he said, “what can I do for you?”

“Lieutenant Honigsberg is here to see you.”

“Thanks.” He turned to the hologram. “Deactivate Emergency Medical Hologram.”

The holographic doctor vanished.

Fitzgerald went to his office. Honigsberg was standing, but he looked much less agitated than before. If anything, the man looked angry.

“If we don’t find his lungs on that ship,” Honigsberg said. “I’ll donate one of mine.” His voice was even. He obviously had something on his mind.

Fitzgerald nodded. “That’s an amazing thing to do, Alex. And I’m glad. But are you okay?”

“Away team got this.” Honigsberg held up a device. Silver, with two prongs, it wasn’t something Fitzgerald recognized. “Would it help to know how his lungs were removed in the first place? Because I can tell you.”


	4. Act III

_Captain’s log, supplemental: We’re following the alien ship that left the planetoid where Durst’s lungs were stolen—I’m operating under the assumption they have them—but so far they’re matching our speed. They’ve ignored all our hails. It’s a chase, and I don’t know where the finish line is._

Cavit glanced up when Honigsberg stepped off the turbolift with Doctor Fitzgerald and Lieutenant Taitt. They all looked grim. Given the already tense mood on the bridge, Cavit caught Ro’s eye, and nodded to the briefing room, then rose.

“Stadi,” Cavitt said. “Stay on them. You’ve got the bridge.”

“Aye, sir,” the Betazoid said.

Cavit led Ro and the others into the briefing room.

“I take it you’ve got an analysis?” Cavit said, once they all sat.

Honigsberg’s jaw worked, a rare display of anger from the man before he started speaking. “This isn’t _just_ a weapon,” he said, raising the twin-pronged device they’d collected from the planetoid. “Though it’s definitely a weapon. It has a particularly impressive stun function—a neural resonater, no higher settings—which sounds quite merciful until you factor in it’s to ensure no damage is done to any tissue before removal.”

Cavit frowned.

Taitt took up the discussion. “It has a sophisticated imaging system. Quantum-based. It performs a microcellular analysis of anyone it strikes. Full anatomical analysis.”

“Down to their DNA sequencing,” Fitzgerald added. “It can scan and isolate whatever the wielder is looking for. Which, apparently in this case, was respiratory organs.”

“And then it beams them out,” Cavit said, turning the device over in his hand. The whole thing made him ill. “I’d hate to meet the mother.”

“I’m sorry?” Ro said.

“Human saying. Necessity is the mother of invention,” Cavit said. “Who would design something this cruel? And why?”

“There’s no necessity to explain _that_ ,” Honigsberg said.

Cavit nodded. “What about the ship itself. Any matches in the Talaxian database?”

“No, sir,” Taitt said.

“I’m starting to think we gave that grifter perfectly good supplies for nothing,” Ro said.

“Actually, Commander, I don’t think that’s the problem,” Taitt said.

They all looked at her. Zandra Taitt didn’t do anything other than perfect comportment, in Cavit’s admittedly limited experience; She was always cool, calm, and collected, or at least she had been since they’d met. But right now, there was hesitancy in her deep brown eyes.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” he said.

“I’ve been doing a deep dive into the Talaxian database, as well as what we managed to get from our trips to the Caretaker’s array, which has been harder to decipher.” Taitt was back to confident now. “Do you remember the debris fields scattered all through the sector?”

Cavit nodded.

“The majority of the debris matched material used in what we saw of the Kazon ships, but it only accounts for about eighty percent in total. When I compared the ship we’re after with the sensor records, there seems to be a few matches of material in the alien ship not found in Kazon vessels.”

“Okay,” Cavit said.

“I think the Caretaker might have kept these aliens away,” Taitt said. “And not just these aliens. From the Talaxian’s database, there’s at least one other aggressive species bordering the same sector—the Krowtonan Guard—but they _never_ encroached, despite being technologically superior to the Kazon?”

“You think the Caretaker kept other species away,” Ro said. “Like a warden?”

“Exactly.” Taitt nodded. “He wanted to protect the Ocampa, above all else. I think the same technology that brought us to the Delta Quadrant could have easily been used in a destructive fashion. In fact, it would have been _easier_ to use it that way—no need to create a counter-wave or care about how gentle the effect was of the wave striking a starship.”

“So destroying the array may have left this whole area vulnerable to vultures who’ve been circling the whole time,” Cavit said. A sick feeling twisted in his stomach. If Taitt was right, this was his fault. All of it.

“Captain,” Taitt said, and she waited until he met her gaze to continue. “If the array had ended up in the hands of the Kazon, there’s every indication they would have been far more destructive, and the Ocampa would have been their first target.”

He nodded. He wanted to believe that. And he didn’t have time to wallow.

“The meat of what you’re saying, though,” Cavit said. “Is we should expect more hostile species sniffing around, and the Talaxian database isn’t going to be as complete as we’d hoped.”

Taitt took a breath. “I think it’s not unlikely for others to notice the Caretaker isn’t policing the area.”

“Okay,” Cavit said, still turning the device over in his hands. He looked down at it, then handed it to Fitzgerald. “Lock this away for now. We’ll study it when we’re not chasing down vultures. I don’t see a reason not to learn from it, but lets make sure its safe first.”

Fitzgerald nodded, taking it.

Cavit turned back to Taitt. “Good work. You didn’t have to do all that extra analysis.”

“I had help,” she said. “Which is another thing I wanted to bring up, if we have the time?”

Cavit nodded. “Go ahead.”

“The Ocampa.” She looked around the group. “Have any of you spent much time with them?”

“A bit,” Fitzgerald said. “When they were setting up the garden, and after that incident a little while back with the nightmare.”

“Only Kes,” Ro said.

Honigsberg shook his head.

“Eru offered me breakfast,” Cavit said, feeling a little foolish. “But mostly they’ve just asked me how they can help. And that bad dream they had.”

“Abol has been helping me with the Caretaker tricorder logs, and the Talaxian database,” Taitt said. “Cross-referencing with our own files, for the most part. This morning I found him working his way through the list of names from the memorial.”

Honigsberg blinked. “The one in the Ocampan city? The one that had the Starfleet officer on it?”

“That’s right. Captain Rudolph Ransom,” Taitt said.

Honigsberg snapped his fingers. “That’s it! That’s the name. Neither Lan or I could remember by the time we were back aboard. Do we know what ship he served on?”

“The Equinox,” Taitt said. “It’s a surveyor. He’s still working on the Cardassian and Vulcan names, but it’s not as likely for us to have crew manifests in our database.”

“Anyone know the Equinox?” Cavit said.

No one did, but he could see the same excitement he felt, shared on their faces. Another Federation ship, here in the Delta Quadrant? Now that they knew who they were looking for, they could actively try to find them.

“Thank him,” Cavit said. “And count ourselves lucky he had a copy of the list from the memorial.” Cavit said. He’d seen the names himself. There’d been many, all in their own native languages. Unlike Honigsberg, however, he hadn’t had time to examine it closely at all. He knew both Alex and Lan had been beating himself up over not being able to remember the name they’d read.

“He didn’t have a copy. He re-wrote it,” Taitt said. “From memory.”

They all needed a moment to process that.

“From memory,” Cavit said.

“There were dozens of names on that list, in dozens of languages,” Honigsberg said. “Including Vulcan, Cardassian…”

“In the past couple of weeks, Abol has read more about stellar phenomenon, stellar cartography, and astrogation than I studied in my first year at the academy,” Taitt said. “And he’s absorbing it like a sponge. He can quote it back to me.”

“The nutritional needs of the crew,” Fitzgerald said. Cavit raised one eyebrow in question. “It was the same with the information I gave them about the crew, when they were starting their garden. They read it overnight, and selected crops to match. It was a lot to process, but they had it figured out in about ten hours.”

“Bronowski mentioned that, too. They have perfect recall,” Taitt said. “Honestly, Captain, I was thinking of asking you if I could assign Abol to work with the stellar cartography team full-time, if he’s willing. In a couple of months, I think he’ll have learned enough to truly contribute on his own. And, honestly? He seems to really enjoy it.”

“I guess when you only live nine years, you need to pick things up quickly,” Ro said.

“Xindi Insectoids,” Fitzgerald said, drawing all their attention again. “It’s the same with them. Shorter-lived species tend to have a tighter learning curve.”

Cavit eyed the group. “As soon as we resolve this… problem with the aliens, I’ll sit down with the Ocampa. I knew Daggin wanted to help more, but it’s clear I haven’t realized how much potential I was looking in the face. And reach out to your departments. If anyone knows anyone on the Equinox, or has any ideas about tracking her, I want to hear them.”

“Cing’ta might be able to help with that,” Ro said. “He’s got a real understanding of subspace signals, and how to—”

“Bridge to Captain Cavit,” Stadi’s voice cut in.

“Go ahead.”

“They’ve dropped out of warp.”

“Let’s go,” Cavit said, and they all rose.

*

“On screen,” Cavit said.

On the screen, a large asteroid appeared. Cavit glanced at Rollins.

“The ship entered the asteroid, Captain,” he said.

“Hold position,” Cavit said. “Ensign Lan? What are you seeing?”

The Trill shook her head. “Sensors aren’t penetrating the surface. I’m reading a layer of neutronium alloy.” She tapped a few more sequences into the scanners, her lip curling in what looked like grudging respect. “It’s not natural, just designed to look that way.”

Cavit eyed the asteroid. It looked like a large, simple rock to him.

“They hid their facility on the planetoid,” Ro said. “And they’ve hidden inside here, too.”

“These vultures like to keep a low profile,” Cavit said.

Ro turned back to Lan. “Was this whole asteroid constructed, or did they modify it?”

Lan shook her head. “Either is possible.”

“If it’s a concealed station, is it armed? Does it have shields?” Cavit said.

“Nothing I’m seeing on sensors,” Rollins said.

“I’ve got their ion trail,” Stadi said. “There's an open crater on the limb of the asteroid. That’s where they went in.”

“They went inside?” Cavit said.

“Show us,” Ro said.

The screen changed, revealing a large crater, the depths of which were completely dark.

“Their ion trail goes right in,” Stadi said.

“How big is that crater?” Cavit said.

“Two hundred metres in diameter,” Stadi said. She turned in her chair, a smile playing on her lips. “And yes, I can.”

Cavit knew she hadn’t read his thoughts, though she might as well have.

“Okay then,” Cavit said, returning her smile. “Red alert. Shields up. Stadi, lay in a course.”

“Aye, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laying some groundwork with Taitt's analysis here for the future, as well as trying to explain some of the oddness re: the Kazon being around for so long for the first couple of seasons and how they had so much territory but were technologically not so up on the food chain compared to other races Voyager encountered.


	5. Act IV

“Shields up, standby phasers,” Cavit said.

“Aye, sir,” Rollins said.

Stadi could feel the tension in the bridge, of course, but it was nothing to screen it out. Or at least, most of it. There was something to be said for letting the thoughts of so many focused minds add an edge to her own. She kept her eye on the navigational sensors, glancing up as the asteroid filled the viewscreen and she matched the gentle rotation to the crater, then plotted a vector.

Voyager flew into the opening like a dream.

Stadi loved this ship. And flying her. She adjusted for the effect the asteroids mass was having, and then noted just how narrow the fissure was now they were inside.

“We’re going to go slow,” Stadi said. “Things get a little tight up ahead there.” She adjusted the output of the thrusters, reducing the output to near minimum levels.

“Any sign of our quarry, Rollins?” Cavit said.

“I’ve got the ion trail, but there’s interference,” Rollins said. “I’ve only got about a five hundred metre view.”

“Electro-magnetic noise,” Lan said from Ops. “I don’t think it’s natural, either.”

“You definitely get the impression they really don’t want to be followed,” Cavit said.

“Then they shouldn’t have attacked us,” Ro said.

Stadi had to spare a smile at that, even as she made a tiny adjustment. She and Ro clicked on a few levels, not the least of which was a no-nonsense approach to the universe.

“Plus side, I don’t think they can scan us, either,” Lan said.

“They’re relying on their knowledge of the territory,” Ro said.

“Could they get past us?” Cavit asked.

“No sir,” Stadi said. “We’re taking up most of the room. And so far, there’s only one path.” She made another minute adjustment, and Voyager cleared one of the interior walls by less than a hundred metres, rotating the starship through a bottleneck just-so.

 _I love my job_.

*

“Doctor?”

Fitzgerald glanced up from his monitor. Kes stood in the doorway, the Ocampan woman standing with her arms crossed behind her back, like she was hesitant to intrude.

“Come in,” he said.

“Thank you.” She came in and sat down across from him.

Her smile was so genuine, and transformed her whole demeanour. He found himself matching it. “What can I do for you?” he said.

“I wondered if you’d had an opportunity to put together that reading for me?” she said. “I understand if you haven’t, but we finished with the garden for the day, and I thought having something to focus on might be a good idea.”

“I completely forgot, Kes,” Fitzgerald said. “But hang on. I can do it right now. I’m just re-reading the same medical procedures over and over right now.” He activated his monitor, and pulled a PADD from his desk drawer.

“How is Lieutenant Durst doing?” she said.

“We can keep him healthy for quite a while,” Fitzgerald said. “Don’t worry.” He paused his scrolling through the LCARS document interface to glance at her. “I didn’t realize you knew him very well.”

“I don’t.” She had a tendency to speak gently, he noticed. “But it’s all the crew have been speaking about in the Mess Hall.”

Fitzgerald nodded. “I can imagine.” He found the titles, and transferred them to the PADD.

“You didn’t come eat today,” Kes said. “I saw T’Prena, and Rebecca Sullivan, but I don’t recall seeing you.”

“I had my ration bars here,” Fitzgerald said. “I try not to stray too far from sickbay when I’ve got a patient like Durst. It’s one of the dangers of the job. Sometimes it feels like you end up seeing sickbay more than you see your own quarters. During a minor Denobulan flu outbreak during our shakedown, I once slept in this chair for two days.” He held out the PADD.

Kes took it. “Thank you,” she tapped he screen, noting the titles. “If I have questions about neurology after this, may I ask you about it?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Thank you, doctor,” she said, rising from the chair. At the door to his office, she paused. “You know, we’d be happy to bring you something,” Kes said. “I believe Eru saved a flask of the soup for Captain Cavit. It’s just as easy to set something aside for you as well.”

“Thank you,” Fitzgerald said. “I’ll remember that. But you don’t have to serve the crew. I hope you know that.”

Kes’s smile returned, almost impish. “I assure you, my intentions aren’t completely selfless. I’m hoping to learn a lot, doctor, and it seems to me that the crew of Voyager are happier when they’re not eating ration bars.”

Fitzgerald had to laugh.

“You’re not wrong.”

“Thank you again,” she said holding up the PADD, then left.

Fitzgerald shook his head, then turned back to his monitor. He brought up the transplant procedure again, then sighed, and shut down the display. He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out he remains of his “lunch”—something labeled as dehydrated eggs and stewed tomatoes that tasted more like dust—and stared at it.

“As the chief medical officer,” he said to himself. “I order you to eat it. No matter how poor it tastes. It’s balanced for daily nutritional needs.”

It didn’t help. He sighed, and started to peel the wrapper back further, but his grip wasn’t tight enough. It fell from his left hand, onto the desk.

There was no mess. It barely crumbled, and the half of the ration remained in the packet for the most part. Still, he had to close his eyes and fight off a wave of anger and frustration.

Maybe he could order himself to stop getting angry?

He opened his eyes, examining his left hand, and the bands around his fingers, thumb, and wrist. Then, carefully, he picked the ration back up, concentrated carefully while he held the package, and maintained his grip while he pulled the wrapper back.

Fitzgerald finished the rest of the ration.

He swallowed every damn bite.

*

“Stadi, you’re incredible,” Cavit said.

“Thank you, Captain.” She didn’t take her eyes off the readings, nor her fingers off the controls. The passage carved into the asteroid was definitely designed for a smaller ship, but she guided Voyager through.

She was born for this.

“There’s a larger chamber ahead,” Rollins said.

After another slight bend, the tunnel opened up ahead of them, and Stadi reflexively moved her hands to bring Voyager to a halt, only stopping when she realized half the ships moving around the incredibly crowded inner chamber of the asteroid were also Intrepid-class starships, which wasn’t possible.

The other half were the same configuration as the aliens they’d been chasing. Dozens of ships of both kinds.

“Lan?” Ro said.

Stadi kept her eyes up and her attention on her controls, but the Trill’s voice made it clear she was unsure. “Sensors can’t get far, but I think this is more artificial camouflage on their part. Voyager and their ship, reflecting over and over off the walls of the chamber. They’re coated in the same neutronium.”

“Can you tell which one is the real ship?” Cavit said.

Rollins took a second with that. “No, Captain. The same interference is reflecting around the walls, too. We can barely read what’s right ahead of us.”

“Stadi?” Cavit said.

“I’ve got their ion trail,” Stadi said, “but it wouldn’t be impossible to mask the real trail and leave a false one to lead us right into one of the reflective surfaces.” It’s what she would do, if she was the pilot trying to escape the larger ship. She reached out with her telepathic awareness, but the best she felt only a vague awareness that they were, indeed, in this chamber.

It was possible they didn’t register to Betazoids beyond that. It wouldn’t be first race she’d encountered she couldn’t read.

“I’m not sure there’s another choice,” Ro said.

“Agreed,” Cavit said. “Rollins, extend the forward shields to maximum. If this is a funhouse, let’s at least hold our arms out. Continuous scans, Lan.”

“Aye, sir.”

Cavit approached the Conn putting a single hand on Stadi’s shoulder. “Follow the trail.”

Stadi nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

*

“Chief?”

Honigsberg looked up from his sensor display, where he’d been trying to figure out a way to compensate for the neutronium interference. Li-Paz, one of the former Maquis and thus far a damned solid systems engineer, was looking at him from the shield output display.

“What’s up?” Honigsberg said.

“I’m getting a fluctuation in the shield emitters.” Li-Paz tilted his head. “Did you ramp down the warp core?”

Honigsberg came out from behind his display and joined Li-Paz at the wall. Sure enough, there was a fluctuation forming. Honigsberg tapped the screen, tracing it back to the warp core. The fluctuation was at the source.

“Try the KLS stabilizer,” Honigsberg said, moving to the warp core interface itself, and calling up the main readouts.

“Yes, sir,” Li-Paz said. After a few seconds, the Bajoran blew out a breath. “No effect. And the power loss is increasing.”

“I see it,” Honigsberg said.

“Bridge to Engineering,” Cavit’s voice came over the comm. “What’s happening down there?”

“Power drain, Captain,” Honigsberg said, eyeing the readouts and shaking his head. “I can’t isolate, but it’s draining seven percent a minute, right out of the warp core.”

He lifted his head and nodded to Ensigns Ballard and Vorik. “Map the loss as best you can. I need to know where that power is going.”

Both nodded, moving to their stations and getting to work.

“There’s a dampening field in the chamber.” This time the voice on the comm was Lan’s.

“Sir,” Vorik said, and Honigsberg went to the young Vulcan’s display and looked over his shoulder.

“She’s right,” Honigsberg said. “It’s drawing the power right out of the nacelles. I’m going to try shutting down the warp core, and shifting to emergency power.”

Everyone in the room watched as he initiated the shutdown. Above them, the swirling light and pulsing beat of the warp engines slowed, and then stopped. The lights dimmed slightly as the backup power systems engaged.

“No effect,” Li-Paz said.

“Keep trying,” Cavit’s voice returned. “We’ll do what we can from up here.”

“Aye, Captain,” Honigsberg said, and tried to think of another way to cut Voyager off from the dampening effect.

*

“These aliens aren’t vultures,” Cavit said. “They’re trapdoor spiders.”

“Can we see where the dampening field is coming from?” Ro said.

Cavit waited while Lan did her best to answer. Every step of the way, these aliens seemed to have another trick up their sleeve to vanish or confound them, but this time the threat was even worse; if the power kept draining away, they’d be stuck inside this asteroid.

Lan looked up. “If I follow the drift of energy from the nacelles as far as the sensors can, I’d say two one seven mark zero one five, but distance is a guess. Maybe six hundred metres?”

“Phasers?” Rollins said.

“I wouldn't suggest it. The surface is reflective neutronium,” Lan reminded them.

Cavit crossed his arms. “Right. So for all we know, the phasers would ricochet right back at us. Which, not ideal.”

“No.” Rollins stared at the viewscreen.

"It's not just ideal." Ro stood. “It's exactly what we need.”

“Pardon?”

“Minimal power, continuous fire,” Ro said. “A low enough yield and we wouldn’t have to worry about the beam penetrating our our shields, but the beam would keep reflecting, right?”

Cavit nodded, not sure where she was going with this. “Yes, until it hit us.” Then he got it. “Or _them_.”

“Or it will end up going out the corridor behind us, but if we keep moving the beam…” Ro said.

“I get it.” Lan picked up the thread. “Like a beacon, shining around a room trying to get the light beam to hit the alien ship.”

“Yes,” Ro said.

Cavit turned to Rollins. “Lowest yield, continuous fire, Ensign.” He glanced at Ro, and nodded.

“Aye, sir.”

On the viewscreen, the phaser criss-crossed ahead of them over and over.

“Anything?” Ro said.

Lan shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Adjust the angle, ensign. Nice and slow,” Ro said.

“Adjusting by five degrees. Ten,” Rollins said. “Fifteen.”

Lan straightened. “There.”

“On screen,” Cavit said.

Sure enough, the beam was clearly hitting the smaller ship on the viewscreen.

“Stadi, get within transporter range,” Cavit said.

“Yes, sir,” Stadi said. Voyager began to move.

“Two life signs,” Lan said, the moment they were close enough to scan. Then, she frowned. “They’re powering up their engines.”

“Lock on to those two life signs and beam them to transporter room one,” Cavit said. He eyed Rollins. “Erect a forcefield around the pad.”

Rollins nodded, then tapped his combadge. “Security, meet me in transporter room one.”

“Let’s go,” Cavit said. “Commander, you have the bridge.”

“I’ve got them, Captain,” Tamal—one of Ro’s former crew—said over the comm channel as they rode the turbolift down. He couldn’t help feel a rush of success. Now they’d get some answers.

Foster and Cing’ta met them outside the transporter room, and they all entered together.

Cavit hadn’t been sure what to expect, but his first glance at the two aliens took him completely off guard. They didn’t look like any species he’d ever seen before—or, more to the point, they looked like a patchwork quilt of a variety of species. Patches of skin of various pigments and textures covered their faces and hands, the only two parts of them exposed by the voluminous robes they wore.

They looked like something out of a Frankenstein holonovel.

And though it was hard to tell with their mismatched features, Cavit would have sworn they also looked _afraid_.

*

“My name is Captain Aaron Cavit, and you’re on the Federation Starship Voyager.” It took everything Cavit had to keep his voice from betraying his full fury. He wanted to yell every word. Instead, he settled for a statement of intention. “You took something from us, and you will give it back.”

The two aliens looked at each other on the transporter pad.

“I’m Dereth, of the Vidiian Sodality,” one finally spoke. Then, after a long moment. “I… cannot return the air-breathing organs.”

Cavit’s jaw clenched. “Why not?”

“We are gathering replacement organs and suitable bio-matter.” The being, Dereth, swallowed. Cavit had to fight off revulsion over the way the seams of different skin shifted over its throat. “There is no other way to fight the phage.”

Cavit knew the word, or at least as well enough to understand. “A disease,” he said. He turned to Tamal. "The forcefield, bio-filters?"

"Fully functional, Captain," Tamal said.

"You are not in danger." The other being spoke. “The phage is unique to us. It attacked our people over _two millennia_ ago, and has never passed to another species. But us? It _consumes_ our bodies, _destroys_ our genetic codes and cellular structures.” The second alien’s voice rose in a mix of what seemed equal parts anger and frustration and pain.

“So you needed some lungs, saw my crew member, stole them from him and _left him to die_ ,” Cavit said.

The second alien spoke again. “Our immuno-technology cannot keep up. The phage adapts. It resists all attempts to destroy it.” He was pleading now, and sounded close to tears. “The Sodality has been ravaged. Thousands die each day. _There is no other way for us to survive_.”

For just a moment, Cavit had some sympathy for the man, but then he noticed the man’s eyes didn’t match. Who, he wondered, had lost their eye so this man might cry?

“I understand you’re facing something terrible beyond imagining, but I will not allow you to assault my people. You removed lungs one of our crew members. You will give them back. Immediately.”

“As I said, I cannot.” Deleth exchanged a glance with his companion.

“Again, _why not_?” Cavit’s voice was ice.

“I have already bio-chemically altered the air-breathing organs and grafted them into Motura's body. They are a part of him now.”

The second stepped forward again. “He is my _honatta_. His task is to find the organs I need for survival.” Again, he turned pleading. “We _try_ to extract them from the dead—”

Dereth spoke again. “But sometimes the need is immediate.”

Cavit took a long, even breath. “‘The need is immediate’ is a very clean way to describe attempted murder.”

The two looked up at Cavit, and he saw the hopeful note in their eyes and shook his head. “Yes. He’s alive. We can replace his lungs, but don’t think that absolves your actions.”

“You can’t understand how any civilised people could come to this,” Motura said, his voice nearly broken. “Once, we were known as educators and explorers, a people whose greatest achievements were artistic. But when your entire existence is at stake—”

“You don't have to explain yourself, Motura,” Dereth said.

“If they intend to kill us for our crimes, I would have them know us first.”

Cavit shook his head. “We don’t execute people. No matter their… _atrocities_. And I’m certainly not going to seal you away in our brig for the foreseeable future, what would be the point?” Cavit took another breath. Had he ever been this angry? Felt this _useless_? What power did he have here, with these aliens?

None. He had none.

“We’ll return one of you to your ship. You will turn off the dampening field that is affecting my ship. And then we’ll send the other back to your ship. We will leave. And you will tell your people— _all of your people_ —that if I see your kind again, I will not hesitate to protect my people from being _harvested_. If you take any action against this ship or its crew, I will aim to destroy you.” He took a moment, staring at each of the two men for a heartbeat in turn. “Do you understand?”

Dereth didn’t quite meet Cavit’s gaze.

“We understand.”

“Get him off my ship,” Cavit said.

“Aye, sir,” Tamal said, and beamed Dereth back to his ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given the victim was human this time—Durst—and not a Talaxian with odd anatomy, and thus Durst will be okay and they've got options of their own, Cavit's anger has a bit more freedom than Janeway's did, with less hopelessness (and certainly, no reason to let the Vidiians anywhere near Sick Bay). 
> 
> This also allows me to keep the Vidiian device, which I have plans for later.


	6. Act V

_Captain's log, supplemental: The Vidiians have thus far lived up to their word. The dampening field was deactivated, and we beamed Motura back to their vessel. Once we clear their asteroid, we’ll resume our course. Stadi is already working on new potential sites to replenish our stores, and Sickbay reports Durst’s lung transplant was successful, without any complications. Both he and Honigsberg are recovering._

*

Honigsberg turned his head as Fitzgerald approached.

“You know, you should put some artwork up there or something,” he said, pointing at the ceiling.

Fitzgerald looked up, noting the uniform grey and white of the Sick Bay ceiling before turning back to him. “I think the idea is to bore the patient into wanting to get better.”

“Well, it’s working,” Honigsberg said.

“How are you feeling?” Fitzgerald said.

“A little lightheaded.”

Fitzgerald nodded. “It’ll pass.” He checked the readouts over Honigsberg’s biobed. “He’s waking up. You said you wanted to be told.”

Honigsberg nodded, rolling his head to see into the surgical bay. T’Prena was just stepping out of the enclosed space. “Can I go see him?”

“Yes,” Fitzgerald said.

Honigsberg sat up slowly, but beyond the faintest sense of dizziness, everything worked the way it should. He swung his legs over the edge of the bio-bed, and stood up. Fitzgerald watched him.

“Okay?” the doctor said.

Honigsberg nodded.

“Don’t stay too long. He’ll want to sleep again, believe it or not.”

“Oh I know. I went first, remember?” Honigsberg said, and rubbed his goatee. Then he realized what he’d done, and lowered it, meeting Fitzgerald’s gaze.

“Wasn’t going to say a thing,” Fitzgerald said, then turned and walked back into his office.

Sure you weren’t, Honigsberg thought, then crossed the sickbay and slipped into the round surgical bay.

Durst was awake, and his hazel eyes tracked Honigsberg as he entered. “Nice robe,” Durst said.

“I’ve always liked blue,” Honigsberg said. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Angry. Lucky to be alive?” Durst cracked a small smile. “I’ve been a lot of things, really.”

“We both get time off,” Honigsberg said. “So there’s that.”

“Oh, well then,” Durst said. “That makes it all worthwhile.” He laughed, then pressed a hand to the robe where it covered the centre of his chest. “That’s… a strange sensation.”

Honigsberg understood what he meant. “We’ll get used to it.”

Durst lowered his hand again. “I really don’t know what to say.”

Honigsberg raised his hand. “Can I go first?”

Durst frowned at that, but nodded.

“There was someone back in the Alpha Quadrant, and he and I were very… off and on,” Honigsberg said. “Part of that was distance—even when we were in the same quadrant—and part of that was just me, being… me. I have a way of keeping things light. Easy. No grand gestures.” He took a second. “No strings.”

“Okay,” Durst said, waiting.

“I’m your superior officer,” Honigsberg said. “And you’re my direct report.”

Durst regarded him, and Honigsberg honestly couldn’t read his expression. Finally, the man spoke. “Those are some pretty big strings.”

Honigsberg nodded.

“So even if you wanted to—you wouldn’t,” Durst said. “And that wasn’t me fishing. I… think I’d rather not know, actually.”

Honigsberg offered a small smile. “Okay.” That was fair.

“Besides,” Durst said, with a sly grin that really was attractive. “I’ll always have a piece of you. Right here.” He tapped his chest.

Honigsberg laughed. A loud, explosive laugh that made his head spin after. He leaned against the door frame. “Warn a man before you crack a joke,” he said, once the dizziness passed. “I’m laughing with one lung these days.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Durst said. He blinked slowly.

“You should sleep,” Honigsberg said.

“I’ve been asleep for ages,” Durst said. “But… yeah. I’m so tired.”

“I’ll see you back in our quarters,” Honigsberg said, but it looked like Durst was already asleep.

*

The lights were dimmed for the night shift, and the Mess Hall was accordingly quiet. Fitzgerald took a second to look out at the streaks of stars warping by, then headed over to the replicator. He had exactly one replicator ration—his first, and, if they didn’t find some new power sources, likely to be his only for quite a while—and he really, really wanted a flask of coffee.

“Try that?” a voice said beside him, and he turned. He hadn’t noticed the divider between the Mess Hall and the Captain’s Private Mess was open, but it wasn’t Captain Cavit in there, but one of the Ocampan women. Eru.

But it hadn’t been her he’d heard speaking.

“Alex?” Fitzgerald said, crossing to the opening, and looking down.

Sure enough, Honigsberg was sitting cross-legged on the floor, installing something along the wall of the Captain’s Private Mess. Fitzgerald had had lunch with Captain Janeway there twice during their shakedown, while they discussed the crew’s annual physicals, but the space looked to have been completely gutted. The table and chairs were gone.

“Hey,” Alex waved. He was in civilian clothes at least—a soft blue tunic and plain grey pants—but still.

“Didn’t I tell you to take time off?” Fitzgerald said. He’d literally sent Durst back to their quarters just two hours ago.

“This is time off,” Honigsberg said. “Did it work?” he added, turning to Eru.

Fitzgerald watched Eru tap the newly installed… whatever it was. It looked like a series of pans and containers were placed along the new surface, with controls between each.

Eru leaned over one of the pots, and looked down at Honigsberg, smiling. “It’s boiling.”

It finally clicked.

“Is that an _oven_?” Fitzgerald said.

“ _Convection_ oven,” Honigsberg said. He rose, taking his time and moving slowly, which Fitzgerald appreciated. At least he wasn’t bouncing around like he usually did. “Eru here needed a kitchen, and Captain Cavit decided his Private Mess was better served this way. Or.” He cracked a smile. “I guess we’ll be the ones better served.” He rubbed his goatee, clearly doing it for Fitzgerald’s benefit.

Eru smiled. “Alex was kind enough to help me get things set up for breakfast tomorrow. I’m making _hash browns_ , and a spiced plomeek and tomato juice.” She held up a PADD. “The tomatoes and potatoes are some of our more successful crops, though Cir wants to try _beetroot_ next.” She eyed the surface. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to start bringing the fruit and vegetables here, now that we’ve got vacuum storage for them.”

“Of course,” Honigserg said. Eru left them through the entrance to the Captain’s Private Mess.

Or, Fitzgerald supposed, it was the kitchen now.

Fitzgerald looked at Honigsberg, but he held up one hand before the doctor could speak.

“I swear, if you ask me how I’m feeling…”

Fitzgerald shrugged. “Occupational hazard.” He held up his ration chip. “Split some coffee?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Alex said.

The doors to the Mess Hall opened, and the laughter of two men carried into the space. Fitzgerald turned, and saw Lieutenant Durst and Ensign Rollins together, both dressed casually, and both standing quite close to each other. Durst gestured to the table nearest the far window, and when Rollins moved toward it, Durst put a hand at the small of the man’s back.

Fitzgerald turned back to Honigsberg, who watched the two sit down together, then turned to face him.

“I gave that man a lung,” Honigsberg said, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted to remain out of view.

Fitzgerald nodded slowly. “You did. And… you also told him you weren’t interested.”

“I did. And I’m not,” Honigsberg said. “I just didn’t expect to be so quickly replaceable.”

Fitzgerald spared another glance for the two men, then turned back to Honigsberg. “Durst just took a major hit. It’s not unusual for people who’ve been reminded of their mortality to want to reach out and grasp some life.”

Honigsberg rubbed his goatee, though this time Fitzgerald was sure he hadn’t meant to. “I suppose.” Then he turned to Fitzgerald. “And we’ve all taken some major hits lately, haven’t we?”

Despite himself, Fitzgerald clenched his left hand. “We have.”

“Tell you what,” Honigsberg said. “You get the coffee, and meet me in my quarters. Apparently my roommate isn’t home. Up for a game of chess?”

“Sure. See you there.”

Alex slipped out of the kitchen, and Fitzgerald went to the replicator.

 _We’ve all taken some major hits lately, haven’t we_?

Fitzgerald transferred his ration to the replicator and said, “Flask of coffee, hot, double cream.”

They might not have a counsellor on board, but they had coffee.

It would do.

*

Cavit’s door chimed, and he put down the book he’d been reading.

“Come,” he said.

The door opened, revealing Ro Laren. She was still in uniform, even though her shift had ended hours ago.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she said.

“Not at all.” He got up. “Come on in.”

She stepped inside his quarters, looking around. He realized it was the first time she’d seen the Captain’s quarters. _His_ quarters.

Was that ever going to feel comfortable?

“You said you wanted ideas,” Ro said. “About potentially finding the Equinox, or the Vulcan ship.”

“That’s right,” Cavit said.

“I have one,” Ro said. “And I was thinking it might also be helpful in filling in the gaps we now know the Tallaxian database has.”

Cavit pointed at the couch. “Sit. Break it down for me.”

They sat.

Ro leaned forward. “How much do you know about how the Maquis gather intel?”

Cavit blew out a breath. “Not much. Truth be told, that’s one of the reasons we had Tuvok go undercover in the first place.”

Ro smiled. “I’m still wrapping my head around a Vulcan double agent,” she said. “One of our best assets was designed by Cing’ta.”

“He was your tactical officer on the Li Nalas,” Cavit said. “Big guy. Doesn’t speak much.”

She laughed at that. “Wait until he gets to know you. Then he never shuts up. But yes, that’s him. He specialized in communications. He designed a program to listen in to subspace signals, passively gathering information though our network.”

“The Maquis have a communications network?” Cavit was surprised.

“It’s _borrowed_ ,” Ro said. “It piggybacks code on outgoing signals, and copies itself into foreign communication systems. It sends copies of comm signals out as background noise, which no one will notice unless they go looking for them.” Ro shrugged. “Which we do. We can use sensor buffers to pick up the signals.”

“Like the lateral sensor buffers you used to communicate with us when you were in the singularity,” Cavit said.

“That’s right.”

“Did your man _hack_ Voyager?” Cavit said, not liking where this particular thread of the conversation was going.

“Not on my orders. And I’d ordered him to undo it,” Ro said. “But yes. He had.” 

“I… Okay.” Cavit tilted his head. “I can’t believe the Maquis hacked the Federation communications network.”

“What was it you said?” Ro said. “The mother of invention?”

Cavit had to admit, it was a unique approach. “And you think it could help us here?”

“It wouldn’t be as effective, given the lack of subspace relay stations and the infrastructure of the Federation communications systems, but it would still work more or less the same. Every hail we send out, we could encode with Cing’ta’s program, and… it spreads.” She regarded him. “We’d need a dedicated subsystem, but we’ve still got the computer cores from the Li Nalas. We always kept the system completely separate from any computers we used for anything else, just in case someone picked up on the signal and used our own methods against us. Obviously, it’s not exactly a Starfleet approved information gathering technique.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Cavit said. The thing was, though, he could see the advantage. And as much as it bent—no, broke—some ethical boundaries, the fact of the matter was they were alone, and had _literally_ just faced off against aliens who stole lungs. If they could ‘reach out’ through subspace, and were lucky enough to come across a communication system that had been hailed by the Equinox…

Then they wouldn’t be alone.

“The benefits would take time to build, but—” Ro said, clearly wanting him to understand what the idea offered.

“Do it,” he said.

She leaned back. “Really?”

He nodded. “Mother of invention.”

She exhaled. “I honestly wasn’t sure you’d go for it.”

“I’m honestly not sure I should, and I can only imagine how much trouble I’ll get into when we get home, but…” He allowed a small smile. “It’s just the kind of advanced tactical training I was hoping you’d bring me.”

“I’ll have Cing’ta get started,” Ro said, rising from the couch.

He walked her to the door of his quarters. “It can wait until morning.”

Ro nodded. “At least it’s not the only computer core. The Li Nalas had two. I don’t have to tell Durst he can’t have one for the Aeroshuttle.”

“The man has definitely been through enough,” Cavit said.

“Goodnight, Captain.”

“Goodnight, Commander.”

The door closed behind her. Cavit turned, and stared out the windows, watching the stars warp by.

Would he regret this? He didn’t know. He changed for bed, sliding under the covers and telling the computer to shut off the lights. In the dark, he closed his eyes, surprised that sleep came easily.

He could only hope it was a good sign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's where I really start diverging now. I'm still going to follow episodes in more-or-less as Season One order, but Cavit and Ro are not Janeway and Chakotay, and I think Ro's pragmatism will serve the ship well (if, however, a smidgeon more grey-area when it comes to some ethical decisions). She just strikes me as so much more pro-active than Chakotay, who was so often a peacemaker or a seeker of the middle ground. I also feel like Voyager just sort of "gave up" on the subplot of their having no outside support, with only rare mentions after the first season where things were initially dire. It also made no sense to me that they never grew Earth plants—we learned in TNG that they could replicate seeds/plant-matter (for the holodeck, even), and even if they didn't replicate them, surely some crew would have small personal gardening projects. 
> 
> The idea of a "viral" network of subspace signal listening came from my LUGTrek group I ran (we played the Last Unicorn Games Star Trek RPG over e-mail a billion years ago), where I decided Ayala was a communications specialist and had him come up with something similar. We ran an alternate Voyager campaign where we took turns with episodes as the narrator and players, and changed who lived and died much like I've done for this series. 
> 
> Anyway, as always, I hope you're enjoying. There's more coming and if any particular characters are striking a chord with you, I'd love to know.


End file.
